Garrus Age
by Gehenna79
Summary: Garrus finds himself in a strange new world after the Battle of Earth. Takes place in the events of DAO. Will not be updated regularly, due to other fics, plus I have not played all of DAO.
1. A Chance Encounter

**Garrus Age**

**Chapter One: A Chance Encounter**

* * *

_If I'm up there in that bar and you're not- I'll be looking down you'll never be alone. _

_Alone._

_Alone._

Garrus was alone.

"Shepard..." he breathed softly. A soft wind was blowing, he couldn't feel anything right away, but slowly, the aches and pains shot up his back. His armor was fried to a crisp. He smelled like smoke and death and charred flesh. The scars on his face were going to hurt like hell, he knew.

_I'll always love you._

"Shepard..." he said and he could feel a welling of moisture in his eyes. Garrus was a Turian, the toughest, most disciplined race in the galaxy. But the thought that Shepard was dead, and he was lying in some grassy field somewhere else, was enough to break the walls of mental discipline that had been stored up for years. A single tear dropped down the side of his plated face. Then he blinked the rest of them back.

He remembered...

Harbinger stood like a colossus its orange-yellow eyes blaring with each violent pulse of energy it vomited. Makos exploded on contact, bits of hot ash and rubble were flying about. It was getting harder to breathe with each step towards the beam. The air itself was singed by the beam that Harbinger would relentlessly fire. Man were dying all around, running towards the beam with a selfless determination, a last stand, or in their case a last foray into the battle.

Shepard was running at the front of them, charging straight into the beam.

Harbinger roared, and fired a beam that hit near Shepard, and the intense heat vaporized her armor off immediately, then swiped around to Garrus himself, doing the same. A white light had blinded him.

Then he woke up, the sky was black, and all around him was death. The bodies of dead marines, their corpses charred past the point of recognition, piles of dead human bodies thrown haphazardly on either sides of the beam. Garrus heard nothing but a faint ringing in his ears. The beam was glowing blue, a beacon of hope. Garrus wasn't thinking about Shepard then. He only thought of one thing; getting to the beam and ending the war. He didn't even know how to activate the Crucible, but if there was a way he could do it. He would try, and so he did.

But it cost him; the pain was intense, a burn in his thighs that traveled up to his chest. His face also cracked, and purple dextro-amino blood oozed from cuts all over his body. He could see his bare arm through a piece of burnt armor. He smelled bad too, like a walking, shambling course. In his right hand, he had his last resort weapon, a Predator pistol. A tiny thing with only one clip of ammo left, the Predator would probably scarcely save him from any Reapers going to attack him.

But thankfully, there seemed to be none left. And he managed to slowly limp towards the beam. He heard the crackling of the beam as he got closer, and saw the rush of particles from the platform up into the sky above. Finally, he managed to push himself and start to quicken his pace, and he lunged, falling to the ground as soon as he entered it.

His body rose, he felt weightless, and once again a bath of white light enveloped him.

**The present.**

And now he was here, sitting in the grass. As his feelings kept returning he became aware of sounds. Birds, chirping in the boughs of evergreen trees. A smell of earth was also about, and he could hear the noises of crickets around him. He seemed to be on an llevo-amino world, but there was no way to know for sure without trying some of the local food, which would make Garrus sick if his suspicions were true. Still, it would keep him from dying if it came to it.

Which seemed to be likely to happen if he didn't address some of his wounds; but Garrus wondered for a little while if he should even bother. He had failed his task, of destroying the Reapers. For all he knew the beam had transported him to somewhere on Earth that had not been touched by the Reapers, and soon enough they would find him and kill him anyway.

But then he thought about Shepard.

He thought about her amber-brown hair, the way her lips came together in her half-smirk, half-smile of hers. He thought about the way she laughed, for she was always laughing. He remembered the way she always said how after the war she wanted to move to Tuchanka, help raise baby Krogan, live a much simpler life than before. He remembered her paintings, her one passion that didn't involve killing anything. He remembered the day she took the week off after they had defeated the Collectors, and the two of them had sat around, laying entwined in each others arms, looking up at the stars above for hours.

Garrus gritted his teeth and forced himself to get up. For Shepard's sake he would not give up. He would not lie down and die. If the Reapers were fighting, so was he.

It was quite painful to get up, and he groaned in pain as he fell back down to the ground. Then he looked around. He seemed to be in a forest of some kind. A very swampy forest , it seemed. Pools of green water coated with thick algae slime were around him. The call of a wolf, that's what Garrus thought it was, sounded out in the distance. Wherever he was, the war had not touched it yet. Maybe the beam had transported him to another planet.

"Damn," he said, and he continued to walk, each step painful.

He needed to mend his bones, and fast. There was nothing he could do about his ribs, without any medi-gel anyway. His omni-tool had been destroyed in the battle. Garrus knew how to heal his leg though, all he needed was to cast it up with some lashings, then he could build a crutch with sticks. Then he might have a chance of moving to somewhere safer. The sun was high in the sky, and soon night would be on him.

Garrus began to do so, taking some cat-tails from a nearby swamp, but as soon as he started, he heard a noise from across the way.

A strange group of creatures was emerging out of a small brush of trees. Garrus grunted and tried to get behind cover to hide, in case they were hostile.

Which they appeared to be by the looks of them alone. There were five of them, large hulking creatures, with ugly faces that seemed quite reptilian appearance. They all wore armor of some sort, and their teeth were black and ugly. They growled and gurgled in savage countenance. To Garrus, they seemed like humans, but very ugly, savage humans. Garrus decided smartly to not bother them.

Garrus tried not to move as best he could, but a sudden spike of pain in his chest caused him to grunt as a reflex, and the creatures turned their heads to the noise...which gave them a good view of Garrs.

The leader of them, or what Garrus assumed to be the leader since he was the biggest, snarled a savage grin, and started to walk slowly. On his belt was a sword, a jagged thing that looked eager for blood...Turian blood.

"Easy now," said Garrus, waving his hand away, "Lets talk this through."

For some reason, Garrus had not expected that the beast would understand his words, but it did, and it laughed. Then it shook his head slowly and said, in a voice that was like nails upon a chalkboard, "No...talk."

The other creatures laughed. Garrus was prepared to meet his doom as the creature rose its sword into the air; but then...

The creature turned to stone.

But then Garrus realized that it was now ice.

It had been turned into a block of ice, and then shattered into a million pieces, falling across the grass like a piece of glass. The other creatures looked to the west and their eyes widened. They ran away in fear, huffing and puffing with exertion to try and outrun the scourge that had killed their leader.

Garrus let out a sigh of relief, but then realized that whoever killed the creature could pose a much greater threat.

"Hello?" beckoned Garrus, trying to stand up again.

Some footsteps sounded upon the grass, and then Garrus looked and saw...

An old human woman.

She was short, and wore a simple dress. Her hair was gray and her visage wrinkled, but she had been the one that had killed the creature, of that Garrus had no doubt. As the humans said, he could feel it in his gut.

"Thanks," said Garrus.

"No, thank you," said the old woman, politely.

"What did I do?"

The old woman laughed, "Not only did you distract those Darkspawn sufficiently for good target practice, but you also are a creature I have not yet encountered in the world. That will provide me with a good interest for the rest of the day."

"Oh," said Garrus, confused by the old woman, then he said, "Well regardless, thanks." he grunted from pain.

"You seem to be in a lot of pain, dear."

"I am...wait, how do I understand you. My translator is broken..."

"I would not know what a translator is, much less how to tell if it was broken. However, I can understand you, and you can understand me. Let us not question it."

"Good enough. And yes, I'm in a lot of pain."

"Unfortunate. But healing you, may provide me with the answer that I seek."

Garrus coughed and asked, "The answer to what?"

She smiled and said, "Depends on the question. But I will heal you, it will not be said of Flemeth that she turned away a soul in need."

Garrus seemed oddly perturbed by the old woman, but having no other choices, grunted, got up and said, "Lead the way."


	2. Magic Exists

**Garrus Age**

**Chapter Two: Magic Exists **

* * *

Even though he was in a lot of pain, Garrus still had a thousand questions on his mind. He and Flemeth took a walk through the forest and swamps, and it was slow going, for every single step invoked a small bit of pain in Garrus, and he was anxious to get down somewhere and lie down. Flemeth had hastily patched up his leg and gave him a crutch to stand on, but little could be helped. Garrus then wondered exactly how she was going to heal him, if she was going to use medi-gel, and how she came about getting reserves of medi-gel when it was so closely guarded by the war effort. Then he realized he didn't even know where he was, so he asked...

"Where exactly are we?"

"Names are pretty, but useless. This area is known as the Korcari wilds by the Chasind folk. I suppose that is good enough. You can see for yourself that this is no more than a forest. A forest where deep magic still lies, but a forest nonetheless."

"Wait, did you say, magic?" said Garrus with a hint of disbelief.

The old crone laughed and said, "Yes, you can hear can't you? Magic resides here. Do not tell me you know nothing of magic, my friend."

"Magic...doesn't exist."

She tsked, "More intriguing. You must be from very far away."

"Am I still even on Earth?"

"Earth, what is this...Earth you speak of?"

Garrus had to stop himself and pointed out, "Hold on. What planet am I on right now?"

Flemeth looked at him with a cold appraisal then walked up to him. She took both her hands and slowly reached for Garrus' face, touching him gently. Garrus felt a little uncomfortable, but a minute later she stopped and said, "You were brought here by means very mystical. Even more intriguing. You are in the realm of Thedas, more specifically, the country of Ferelden."

"...what?"

She repeated this again, and they started to walk, "But...I've never heard of such places," said Garrus.

"No, I would not imagine you have. You did not know what magic was, yet it was magic that brought you here. You are from another Realm, and I believe that it was fate that brought you here. For some reason or another. Events are indeed ripening as of late."

"By the spirits..." said Garrus with a groan, "Then why are humans here?"

"Men came to Thedas from lands far across the sea. It is not known where they came from. Maybe they came from your...Earth, many eons ago."

"This is ridiculous, there is no way I could have possibly travelled through space...and time. It was just a Mass Relay, they don't have the power to do that."

"I do not say this very often, but I do not know anything about any...Mass Relays, or Earth, or whether or not you were transported through time, and space or through a hail of raining kittens! All I know, and what you should accept, is that you are here now. And no amount of magic can change that."

Garrus was silenced. If what she said was true, and he really was in a completely new world, he would never find out whether or not Shepard survived. And whether or not the Reapers were defeated.

It was hard to accept, but the old woman was right. So he asked, "So what were those things?"

"The Darkspawn. Nasty creatures, they run amok, would try and eat me if they could."

"But what are they?"

"Creatures born of dark magic. The Chantry says that they were made from Mages of the Tevinter Imperium who found a way into Heaven, but tainted it with their sinful hearts. And that sin turned them into horrible monsters. But that is what the Chantry said. They are monsters, and they can be killed, but they multiply quickly, and they know no fear, and have very few weaknesses."

Garrus said, "Hmmm." They reminded him of Husks. They didn't look like them, but maybe it was possible that the Reapers had been beaten, and these were the last remnants.

At the same, time, the Darkspawn, as Flemeth had called them seemed to be pretty low-tech. They had been wearing old style armor, and used swords.

An even more troubling possibility was that the Reapers had been defeated, but the Crucible had somehow bounced Humanity, and in that case probably the Turians and Asari as well, back to the steel age.

There was no way to know for sure, and it was very maddening.

After an interlude of silence, Garrus asked, "So how did you defeat that creature? The uh, Darkspawn?"

"Magic."

"Oh."

"If Magic truly does not exist where you come from, then I can only imagine what wonders your people created. Magic is truly the dullard, the depresser. It gives an easy fix to problems, so people do not need to think about how to fix society's problems creatively. They only need to find someone who has...magic. I should know, I use it all the time."

Garrus understood what she was saying, or almost did. He said, "Where I came from, we traveled across the stars in ships. Though the technology was not ours. We were given it."

"Ships that travel among the stars? What a novel idea. I'm afraid that will never happen. As long as there is magic, things will always be as they are."

Finally, they came to the top of a hill, overlooking a small pleasant valley. Cattails and rushes grew prodigiously in the murky waters, and between the small pools lay a quaint little hut with a thatched root and a hole in the roof. A small pillar of gray smoke came out of the roof, little puffs of smoke coming out one at a time.

"Ah, my daughter makes soup. I will apologize beforehand."

"Ah...I forgot to mention. I can't eat human food."

"And why is that?"

Now how was he going to explain that? How would this old woman who lived in meideval times understand Dextro-aminio acids and such?

"Biology probably is a little ahead of your time, so just trust me when I say, if I eat human food, I get sick. Which is why I'm going to have a tough time surviving here."

She looked at him for a few seconds as if he were a raving madman, then said, "Nonsense. You will be fine. Come now."

Garrus sighed.

They walked down the hill and up to the small hut. Flemeth opened up the door and let Garrus inside. Immediately a refined, almost airy voice came from the other room, "Mother, what took you so long? You only said you would be gone but a hour-."

A young woman walked into the main room. She was lithe, and wore a skirt laid down with crow feathers it seemed, and a skimpy purple shift that had a hood. She had black hair that was messy and unkempt and skin that was smooth and white. When she saw Garrus her mouth was agape, and Flemeth said, "Don't stand there with your mouth open girl. You'll let the flies fly in uninvited. Ahahahaha!"

The young woman said nervously, "What exactly have you brought into our home mother?"

"I was beginning to wonder that myself. What kind of, 'thing' are you?"

"Uh..." Garrus felt awkward, "My name is Garrus, and I am a Turian."

"A Turian?" the young woman raised her eyebrow. "How do we know this isn't just some darkspawn?"

"Foolish girl," snapped Flemeth, "I would have sensed the taint on him and killed him if that were the case. No, he is a long lost creature, that comes from a land where no magic exists."

"He must be insane. Did you bring him for me to put in the pot?"

"No, child. I have come to heal him. He is wounded from battles great and small, and he seems civil enough. Besides, once I touched him, I knew it was destiny that brought him here."

The young woman sighed and said, "Fine. I will continue the soup and bring it to you when you are done with your prodding."

After the woman left, Flemeth pulled Garrus aside and beckoned him to lay down on a four poster bed. With a few grunts, Garrus was able to do so. Flemeth said, "Morrigan is quite sharp at first, but she is little more than a girl who likes to live wildly with the animals. She will most likely be tending to you over the next few days."

Garrus was a little unnerved by that.

Over the next few hours , Garrus observed the healing methods of Flemeth. First, she removed his armor, which took a little bit of prying. Garrus attempted to help, but she slapped his hand so he remained still like a slug. Then, once he was for the most part unclothed, (an uncomfortable experience for Garrus but he did not resist), she rubbed a salve of some sort over his body. Garrus realized too late that it was not medi-gel in any sort of form, and decided it was too late to worry whether or not he would die from the shock of llevo-amino acids on his system. After that, she stitched a few of his wouds. He realized that the salve was somewhat of an anasthesic, and he did not feel much more than a simple pricking. Garrus had felt worse pain than that. Finally, she cut off some pieces of dead, burned flesh and said, "Now. You will drink."

This was the hurdle. There was a good possibility that he would get some kind of illness from this, but the woman did say she had magic. Garrus would never have believed that before, but watching Flemeth turn that creature into ice and shatter it was enough to make him believe that she might know what she was doing.

"What's this made of?" he asked with intimidation.

"If I tell you, you will not drink. I promise, there will be no harm come to you. If you do die, well it will be peacefully in your sleep."

Garrus sighed and took the phial from her hand. It had a strange orange liquid in it. "What the hell," he grumbled. If he did die, that might be a welcome rest. If he didn't, then maybe magic really did exist. Or maybe, he would make up from this dream. Whatever would happen, it was worth a shot.

Garrus drunk it down. A few seconds later, his eyes grew heavy, and he dropped into a deep sleep.


	3. Recovery

**Garrus Age**

**Chapter Three: Recovery**

* * *

Garrus woke up many hours later, after a deep, dreamless sleep. His stomach ached for food, and his lips were parched, almost on the verge of cracking apart. A pitcher of water lay next to him and he tried to fumble for it, but his hands shook violently. The young girl, Flemeth's daughter, walked in as if she had sensed his waking and walked over with a kind of calm confidence, showing her step. She picked up the pitcher and poured some water into a cup. Then she knelt down and lowered some of the water into Garrus' mouth.

Garrus had never drank anything half so good as that replenishing water. "Thanks," he managed to sputter.

"Mhmm," said Flemeth's daughter.

"What's...what's your name?"

The girl regarded her with a kind of curiosity, and then said with a smirk, "I, am Morrigan, if it please you."

"Thank you, Morrigan."

"Of course. I only help you so that soon you will leave and return out back again once more. I am not quite sure why she deigned to rescue you anyway."

Garrus coughed and said, "How many of me have you seen running around the forest lately?"

Morrigan laughed and said, "Not many. Maybe you are right. Maybe she acted only out of curiosity. Or maybe she could really sense something about you. Who knows? My mother is enigmatic at best."

Morrigan left him to rest for a little bit, then about an hour later she came with a bowl of a chunky soup. It was brown and had small pieces of potato and carrot in it, and it smelled not appetizing in the least. Morrigan had a spoon with her, and Garrus realized she meant to feed him.

"Wait, I can't eat your food."

"Mother told me you would indeed be resistant. However, she believes that the potion she fed you will have cured the disease that makes you unable to eat our food. Either way she thinks you should try. Makes no matter to me, you are welcome to starve, as long as you are quiet about it."

Garrus was not becoming a fan of Morrigan. He sighed and said, "Okay. But I will feed myself thank you." He forced himself to sit up and was surprised that he only felt a small bit of pain, mostly in his lower back.

Morrigan sighed and gave him the bowl and the spoon. Garrus spooned out a chunk of the brown, viscous mixture and put it up to his nose. He winced at the smell, for it was indeed foul, like the smell of rotting flesh in a way.

But Garrus was made of stronger stuff, so he forced himself to eat it. It went down his gullet with some difficulty, but managed to hold it down. He put the bowl down and decided to wait until the symptoms came.

A few hours passed, and he mostly went in and out of further sleep. But to his surprise, no pains, no stomach cramps, and no death came to him. Maybe it was true. He had been thinking that Flemeth's turning the creature into an ice sculpture had been a hallucination brought on by wounds and loss of blood; but maybe there really was magic. He decided to eat some more food.

Soon enough, the whole bowl was gone. Flemeth did not come back that night, so Garrus began to pester Morrigan with some questions.

"So where did you and your mother learn magic?"

Morrigan was sitting over in a wooden chair of simple make, reading out of an aged book made of actual paper, and she looked at him like one might regard a rat or other filthy animal. Then she said, "I do not know where my mother learned it. But all that I learned, I learned from her."

"Can anybody learn how to use magic?"

She chuckled, "No Garrus, not everybody can use magic. You can't, Flemeth would have known if you were made of magical blood."

"Hmmm, how long have you lived in the middle of this forest?"

"As long as I have remembered."

"Ah," said Garrus, not sure what to ask next, then he remembered something that had been on his mind, "So do you know anything about human history?"

"I know a little, do you wish me to tell you a bedtime story?"

Despite himself, Garrus grinned and said, "No, I just want to see if there's a connection between where I came from and where I am now."

"I suppose that is an entirely reasonable request, and I have nothing better to do, though you will have to learn everything through the Chantry's filter, which means...bias."

"The Chantry?"

"Ah yes, they are the religious institution. They are very hateful of mages, because their prophetess long fought and preached against them. Lucky for them my mother is not the idealistic type."

"Alright, I will listen."

Morrigan took out a large tome, like a huge brick made of thin, musty paper, and set it before herself. The binding and the spine was luxuriously decorated, and the pages had ends that were embroidered in gold leaf. Morrigan cleared her throat and began to read, "Long ago, man came from a land far away." And with that she shut the book close.

Silence followed until Garrus said with skepticism, "That's it?"

"That's all we know."

"But...you don't have any recorded history?"

"We do, but most of it is steeped in legends. The farthest back is the First Blight. Blights are pretty much the only history worth recording on an international scale."

"What are the Blights?"

"The Blights are when Darkspawn appear in numbers large enough to conquer the lands of Thedas."

"And...how do they happen?"

"Once again, according to legend, the Darkspawn will awaken one of the Seven Old Gods of the Tevinter Imperium, and their corruption will turn it evil. I think its more likely that the Dragons have minds of their own, and that they control the Darkspawn, or else why would the Darkspawn follow them? They have no regimented command structure to be sure."

Garrus sighed, "Is all of your history, just legends and tales?"

"Most, but I can tell you about some recent events."

"I guess that is better than nothing."

"Indeed," Morrigan laughed, "This land, Ferelden, the country we currently reside in, has not been independent for very long. I think it was thirty, no maybe twenty, I forget the exact number, but it was not long ago that Ferelden won its independence from the country of Orlais, to the east."

"And this helps how?"

"You wanted to know the history," Morrigan scowled.

"I wanted to know ancient history. Should have expected this from people who live in huts and don't even have electricity."

Morrigan looked puzzled, ignorant of what electricity was, so Garrus said, "Never mind. How much longer do I have to stay in this bed?"

"You can leave at any time," Morrigan shrugged, "But it may not be wise to do so for a couple or so days. Then you will leave, and hopefully escape the Darkspawn before they move farther north. However, I doubt you will be regarded kindly by any of the humans. They still treat elves as animals."

Garrus had not considered that. But he remembered back to his Archangel days and said, "I could always wear a helmet. Guard my face."

"Then people will think you have something to hide. Still, it might work, you could even become a mercenary, or join the army. And then we people ask why you do not show your face, then you can give them a good...stare."

Garrus decided he had had enough of Morrigan for one night and said, "Goodnight, I wish to rest."

"As you wish," and she turned the candles out, and Garrus returned to the darkness once more.


	4. A Blunt Appraisal of Arms

**Garrus Age**

**Chapter Four: A Blunt Appraisal of Arms**

* * *

It took three days until Morrigan would finally allow Garrus to leave his bed and walk around a bit. In that time, Flemeth never once returned to the house, and when he inquired about this, Morrigan simply said that Flemeth came and went as she pleased, and that she, being Morrigan herself, could take care of matters while Flemeth was gone. Morrigan would also disappear for large periods of time, leaving Garrus to his own devices.

Garrus took a look at some of the books that he had seen Morrigan reading, but realized he could not read the language in which they were printed. He would have to learn how to read, a skill that he had taken for granted while growing up on Palaven. Cursing himself, he walked around the house a little. There was not much to see, but he did find a closet with some peculiar items in it.

Inside the closet were several old style weapons, a couple of swords, a spear, a few shields, and a strange device he had heard referred to as a "crossbow" by humans. Garrus, being a savant with ranged weapons, decided to take upon the crossbow and give it further inspection. It was a small, not too heavy device, and it fit snugly in Garrus' three-fingered hands. The strings were still taut, but would require a little greasing. Of course, Garrus had no experience with crossbows, and didn't know what to make of it. He merely set it back down where it was, as to not to disturb Flemeth's possessions.

Eventually he left the house, though he did not leave the area for fear of running into the Darkspawn without help. He took a small walk around the lake, getting the feeling of movement back into his legs. Through his mind he wondered why he was able to eat the human food. Was the potion some sort of advanced oral medi-gel? And why had everything devolved? Strange circumstances indeed, but he would have no choice but to try and fit in.

When Morrigan came back, he asked her, "Where'd you get all those weapons?"

"Ah, yes. Some of them the Chasind gave to us as offerings. Others we stripped off of bandits. Flemeth keeps them as trophies for some reason. I know not why. Why? Do you want one of these relics for yourself?"

"Before I...came here," explained Garrus, "I was...a soldier. But we had...machines, that could fire, small little shells at speeds so fast you could barely see them. And that's how we killed people. And I was quite good at it."

"How quaint," said Morrigan with apparent disinterest, "Please, help yourself. If that will help bring back your confidence and get you out into the wide world outside, then please do."

"Thanks, not that I know how to use them."

"Neither do I," and with that, Morrigan slipped away.

Garrus gave them another overview and picked up one sword, and the crossbow. The sword felt sort of empowering in his hand, but close range was not his preferred strategy. Going outside, he gave it a few swings with his right hand, but felt weird doing so. There was no finesse to it, no build up, it felt like he was just walloping away at the air. Without a proper teacher, there was no way to really grasp the intelligence behind each stroke. He decided to give up on it for now.

With the crossbow though, he had more luck. Garrus had found a stash of quarrels and put one into the crossbow. He winded up the line, then pulled the trigger, releasing the quarrel and setting it into the tree nearby. With a look of satisfaction, he decided to try again a few more times.

Once he was done, Garrus's confidence rose a bit, believing that he had at least some small way to defend himself. While the range was much shorter than a sniper rifle, he at least would be able to play to his strengths. But everything else, the calibrations, the omni-tool, it was all gone, fried away, literally when Harbinger blasted him with that beam.

He supposed he was lucky to have survived at least.

Later that day, he asked Morrigan if she would teach him the basics of reading, when she had time.

She gave him a quizzical look and then shrugged, "Lessons begin tomorrow."

"Do you want anything in return?"

"Do you have anything I want?"

Garrus thought about it, "Well I could...work it off I suppose."

"There is nothing you can do for me, personally. For my mother though, I think she has a plan for you. There is no way to be sure, but I sensed it through her body movement. I can read her sometimes, though it is difficult."

"Uh-huh."

"Nevermind. No, I will do it for free, one hour each morning. Be alert and ready to learn."

Of all the things Garrus found strange in this world, Morrigan was the strangest, but he did not complain and awaited instruction.

Morrigan apparently had a skill for words; she was very adept at reading and did it quite quickly. And she had a good vocabulary. They started with the alphabet, going over the various runes and characters. Then they started to form words. The first day wasn't so hard, but the second was much harder as Morrigan began to force feed his mind sentences that continuously grew harder and harder. Then came grammar, as Morrigan believed grammar was the most important part of language. In fact, as he learned the grammar, he realized that Morrigan sometimes spoke in verse.

Garrus noticed that when Morrigan was given respect and authority, she began to become less snarky and came out of her shell of cynicism. In fact, Garrus was beginning to have fun. Challenges were always something that gave him excitement. Fighting all the Merc bands on Omega, helping Shepard take down a Reaper on Tuchanka, and fighting the Collectors to name a few. This was a different sort of challenge, because the words were designed for a human's tongue, but he was able to grasp, slowly but steadily.

By the fourth day, he was able to read his first book and began to stutter the words of a passage, "Often portrayed...as...sto...sto..."

"Stoic," prompted Morrigan.

"Often portrayed as stoic and grim, the...Order of Templars, was created as the...martian arm of the Chantrum."

"That's Chantry," said Morrigan with a sigh, "and martial, but for the most part it was good. Continue."

Garrus continued, "Armed with the ability to dispur..."

"Dispel."

"Dispel and resist magic, in addition to to their formidable combat talents, the Templars are uniquely qualified to act as both a fobble..."

"Foil."

"A foil for...apost...um...aposho..."

"Apostates."

"Apostates? What's an apostate?"

"An Apostate is what we are," said Morrigan simply, "Me and Mother. Mages who live outside the Circle of Magi, away from the ever present eyes of the Templars and the Chantry."

"And that's...bad? Good?"

"That depends on your point of view. Do you believe that someone should be afraid of their talents or allowed to embrace them?"

Garrus didn't have to think about that, "You use what you got to the best of your ability, that seems pretty straightforward to me."

"Right, but the Chantry fears us. And so they believe that we should all be placed under the yoke of the Templars, just because of the risk we carry."

"What risk? Is magic dangerous?"

"Obviously, you saw my mother did you not?"

"She used it to defend me," Garrus felt foolish, "But then again, now that I think about it, she could have easily done that to me."

"While this is true, if that were just the case, people might see Magic as nothing more than a simple weapon. But that is not all. Mages have a certain risk, of being possessed by demons. When this happens the Mage is turned into an Abomination, a creature made of dark evil."

"Can they be killed?"

Morrigan nodded and sipped a cup of tea, "Of course. Anything that lives can be killed, demons who come to this world can be killed as easily as you or I if someone came up to us and stabbed us in the back with a sword. But, they are powerful, very, very powerful. I do not deny the risk, but the risk is only made by Mages who want to use Blood Magic."

"I assume Blood Magic is Magic where you use blood?"

Morrigan laughed and said, "You must have been top of your class, Garrus."

Garrus smiled wrly and replied, "I was. But that's neither here nor there. So what is Blood Magic?"

"All Magic requires fuel, yes? No reaction can be made without products, yes?"

Garrus nodded.

Morrigan continued, "Lyrium, a mineral mined by the Dwarves, is what most mages gain their power from. They make potions out of it, drink it up, and they can do anything they wish. But, before Lyrium was discovered, the most common way to produce energy enough to do magic was to use Blood. The Tevinters of old did this, and according to the Chantry, this is what led to the Darkspawn coming into our world."

"Tevinter. Your mother mentioned that before."

"Once the greatest civilization on Thedas, now a ruined empire in its death throes."

"For some reason," said Garrus slyly, "I kind of wish to visit it now."

"Maybe you will get the chance. I doubt mother will let you stay for much longer now."

Garrus frowned but said nothing. Morrigan raised an eyebrow and said, "Something the matter?"

"Nothing, just..." this was awkward for Garrus, "I'm not used to being afraid. I don't know what's out there. I wish...I wish I could go home."

For once, Morrigan said nothing and merely sipped her tea in silence. The lesson was over.

* * *

**Author's Note: Its been a while since I've wrote any fan-fic, but anyways here are some important Updates. First of all, this is the part where the story starts to diverge into the Origins story. Due to the fact that I like to have characters speak dialogue from the game during scenes that are in the actual game, (authentic dialogue), chapters will probably take much longer to put out, since Dragon Age Origins gameplay for my specific requirements are not as easy to find as Mass Effect gameplays for some reason. Second, no Garrus is not going to become a Warden. And Third, it is very unlikely that I am going to pair Garrus up with anybody. So if you were hoping to see Garrus X Zevran or Garrus x Loghain or something, sorry, but that's not going to happen.**


	5. The Grey Wardens

**Garrus Age**

**Chapter Five: The Grey Wardens**

* * *

Garrus awoke one morning to find that Flemeth had returned. She did not pay him any mind at first, so Garrus merely went outside to do some more practice with the crossbow. When he came back though, Flemeth wished to speak to him, and bade him come into the living room.

"Take a seat, my dear," she ordered. There was a kettle on the fire place, and Flemeth was stirring it, the steam rising up in waves from the boiling water.

Garrus took a seat. Flemeth turned to him and said, "I have allowed you to stay here for over a week now. I can see that your wounds have healed, and that you have been mastering that Crossbow."

"Yes, I am sincerely grateful for your help, I probably would have died out there."

"Yes, you would have. But while I am glad to have saved your life, now you must do something for me."

Garrus felt uneasy, but he didn't want to appear ungrateful, so he asked nervously, "What kind of thing?"

"As of now, I can not say. The future is ever turning, but I have seen a possible thread. In this thread, concerns your destiny, and the destiny of two others. When the time comes, I will tell you what you need to know. But you must swear that you will do this for me without question, lest you leave now and never return."

Garrus knew he would probably regret it, but it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go, so he sighed and replied, "Alright. I'll do...whatever it is you want."

"Good. It will not take long, I promise you that. But I will not lie, the path I send you will be fraught with peril."

Garrus laughed ruefully, "I don't think that will matter much. You've seen my face, you know I have gotten into trouble before."

"Which is why I feel maybe...half-way confident that you will not fail me. But now I suspect we will be receiving visitors."

"Visitors?" asked Garrus.

"Yes, turn your attention to the window. Do not show your face, for you can not yet reveal yourself to the world. Morrigan was right, the people of this land would kill you on sight, thinking you a monster."

"How comforting," Garrus walked up to the window. Flemeth left the hut and walked outside. Then, Garrus could see a small group of people approaching, with Morrigan leading them. There were three men, all of them wearing armor of some kind. One was somewhat chubby, with a bald dome upon his head, another was quite handsome looking, with a five o clock shadow, and short black hair, and the last one, the tallest, had dark blonde hair and beard, and was very muscular, a large greatsword slung across his back. However, Garrus soon found his eyes locating the only female in the party. But she did not look like any female Garrus had any seen. She was lithe and definitely pretty, but her face was extremely angled, and her ears looked somewhat like daggers. Her hair was a light auburn, sleek and shiny, and over her body she wore a dark blue robe. On her back was slung a strange looking stick, that looked like a gnarled root cut from a tree. An odd group of people to be sure.

"Greetings, mother," began Morrigan, "I bring before you four Grey Wardens who..."

"I can see them for myself girl," replied Flemeth haughtily, "Much as I expected."

"Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us," said the blonde one, in a manner that denoted he did not take Flemeth or Morrigan very seriously.

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe," snapped Flemeth back, "Shut one's eyes tight, or open one's arms wide, either way, one's a fool."

"She's a witch I tell you," interrupted the handsome rogue, "We shouldn't be talking to her."

"Quiet Daveth," reprimanded the bald knight, "If she really is a witch, do you want to make her mad?"

"There's a smart lad," said Flemeth soothingly, "Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides, believe what you will," Flemeth stopped and stared at the strange girl with the knife-shaped ears and said, "What about you? Do you possess a different viewpoint? Or do you agree with your companions?"

The girl paled, and looked at the ground. She looked scared out of her mind, but she managed to mutter some words. Flemeth barked, "Speak up girl!"

"I...," she began, stuttering, "You're an apostate, an illegal mage, why should I trust you?"

"I had hoped that maybe you would not be like other Circle Mages, but it seemed like I would be wrong. But there's something about you, so much that is uncertain. Yet I believe...do I? Yes, why it seems I do."

"So this," mocked the blonde knight, "Is the dreaded witch of the wilds?"

"Witch of the Wilds?" said Flemeth with barely contained mirth, "Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such idle tales, though she would never admit it. Oh how she dances under the moon!" Flemeth laughed, a hideous, ugly laugh.

"They did not come to listen to your wild tales, mother," said Morrigan, annoyed.

"Yes, they came for their treaties," Flemeth walked away to take out a few scrolls of paper from underneath a barrel, "And before you begin barking, your precious seals wore off ages ago. I have protected them."

"You protected them?" asked the blonde knight in disbelief.

"And why not? Take them back to your Grey Warden leaders, and tell them that this Blight is greater than they realize."

Soon after, the Grey Wardens left, with Morrigan, and Flemeth came back inside. She said to Garrus, "You can come up now," for Garrus had been kneeling by the window, one eye peeking out between the shutters.

"What was that all about?"

"Those were Grey Wardens, members of an order dedicated to stopping the Blights, I assume Morrigan told you what those are?"

Garrus nodded, and Flemeth said, "Yes, and the elf girl and the blonde one, those are who you must protect. And which is why now I must give you a gift."

"A gift?"

Flemeth did not answer, instead, she pulled a book out of a nearby bookcase, and the bookcase moved all at once, sliding into the wall, and revealing a hidden passageway. Flemeth went down it, and Garrus quickly followed. The air down there was extremely cold, and smelled like the dead. There were cobwebs and moss growing about everywhere. There was no light either, until Garrus saw a glow appear at the bottom of the staircase, where Flemeth had just lit a torch.

"Come on, now," she said impatiently.

He followed her closely as they walked through a dark cave. Glowing mushrooms glowed on the ceilling and walls. A huge spider nested in a cubbyhole off to the side, cradling in its long, furry arms, some skulls and bones. Garrus pointed at it. Flemeth said, "It will not harm us."

However, Garrus could not shake the spider's eight beady eyes off him as he walked, and was thankful to get away from it.

Finally, they came to the end of the cave, where a strange coffin had been hung up on the wall. There was a wooden lever nearby, and Flemeth walked over to it and pulled. The coffin's doors opened, and it revealed something Garrus would have never imagined.

It was a suit of armor, made of shining steel that reflected the flames of Flemeth's torch with an ethereal glow. Underneath, there was a shirt of blue, with a blue collar above the main chestpiece, and blue colored armguards over the steel bracers. The boots beneath the steel greaves were even colored blue, and on top of a mannequin's blank head, there was a spiked helmet, with a visor that came over the wearer's face, the a slit running through the middle to allow for vision.

Garrus looked at it in awe, and said, "Its beautiful."

"It is," agreed Flemeth, "Tis was my husband's."

"Your husband?"

"Yes, once I had a husband named Canobar, and this was his armor. When he died I stored it here, until I would need to give it to someone who needed it more."

Garrus didn't make the connection at first, then looked startled, "You're giving this to me?"

"Yes. As I said before, you must protect the elf girl and the blonde wardens. They are the only hope we have against the Blight. I sensed from the very moment I met you, that destiny had brought you here to serve that role. And so you will. In order to keep you alive longer, it would make sense that I give you my husband's armor, and I hope you use it will."

"Wow...I...thank you, this is a great honor."

"Think nothing of it, should you succeed. At the same time, you will also be protecting Morrigan."

"Morrigan?"

"Yes, she must go to, for she has a role I have groomed her for, for many years. She will be the key to a change this world has needed for eons. If you play your part, then it is possible you may be able to return to your home world."

Garrus didn't know what to make of it, so he said nothing, not even able to comprehend such an offer.

"Can you do this?" asked Flemeth.

"I will certainly try, but it might take some getting used to, wearing this kind of armor."

"No," Flemeth shook her head, "The armor is enchanted. It conforms to the build of the wearer, and adjusts its weight accordingly. It is also made of unbreakable material, that does not mean you can not be killed, oh no, someone can still sever your head, or a hand...or an arm."

"I get the picture, how long do I have?"

"One day," said Flemeth grimly, "To prepare."

* * *

**Author's Note: Unknown to Garrus, Flemeth is up to no good. Hope you enjoyed that one, hope to update more regularly.**


End file.
